The Chicago Cubs have Won their division, and will be in the playoffs.
Meanwhile, The New York Mets have suffered a humiliating defeat, blowing a 7-game division lead going into September.
After 38 years of listening to every damned sports commentator in the world tell the Cubs to "get over" the mets stealing the division title from my beloved Cubbies, all I have to say is:
Welcome to 1969, you bastards.
Nothing personal. How do you like me now?
~~JD~~
Appetizer: How are you today?
How am I What??? How am I getting to work?-- Driving. How am I eating breakfast -- with a spoon. How am I feeling -- with my fingertips, of course. Be specific.
Soup: Name 3 television shows you watch on a regular basis.
Anything that starts with the letters "CSI" or that's on the Discovery Channels. I truly may be Gil Grissom in real life without the encyclopedic knowledge of bugs.
Salad: What’s the scariest weather situation you’ve experienced?
Watching Hurricane Katrina sit just off the coast before it hit New Orleans two years ago. The storm was so big we could sit here and watch the cloud wall rotate all the way here in San Antone.
Main Course: If you could wake up tomorrow morning in another country, where would you want to be?
Sitting at the Carlsberg Bar about three blocks south of De Brouckere plaza in Brussell, Belgium with a sandwich and a nice, cold Elephant beer; watching the tourists go by. Brussells is where I met my wife, and my in-laws still live there. I plan to do that again real sooon in the near future, too.
Dessert: What do you usually wear to sleep?
It's 5:30 am; I'm wearing it now! Grey sweatpants, T-shirt, and flip-flops. Invariably, day-in-day-out.
~~JD~~
It just really hit me this morning when I woke up and popped out of bed for the first time in two months. I was actually happy to see the day come. The dark, soft, damp blanket of depression had finally lifted.
Depression?????
Yeah, depression.
Shoot, what do I have to be depressed about? Oh I dunno -- my cats died from poisoned cat food; both my cars required over a thousand dollars in repairs in two weeks time; I'm a thousand dollars in debt from my trip to Iowa last month, somebody assaulted my wife and spiked her tires at work . . .
. . . and my Dad died.
Damn.
I'm not sure when it started exactly, but some time around the middle to end of August I started to feel it; right around the time Dad was dying and I couldn't really do much about it but watch long-distance. When he died, i just kind of shut off for a while and let the world go by while I processed and grieved.
Apparently my grief process involves Italian Chianti and Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream. Well, could be worse, I s'pose.
But there's a light at the end of the tunnel. I got hired for a Dialysis position last week (I've wanted to get back into Dialysis for three years) for almost $20.00 an hour as a Supervisor. The Detox place I used to work at offered me a job again -- at a substantial pay raise.
But there's a light at the end of the tunnel. You just gotta keep holdin' on, like Third Day says. Great Tune, too.
~~JD~~
Full Disclosure Notice: The Laporte Missionary Bible Church is a church plant of the Liberty Bible church, where we used to worship in Northwest Indiana. I used to worship the next pew over from the Ake family for all I know. After the invasion of Iraq I applied to work as a civilian contractor in Iraq, just like Jeff -- which is when I found out I was diabetic. "There but for the grace of God, go I."
Today (Sunday, September 23rd) is Day 895 of Jeff Ake's captivity.
From the Northwest Indiana Times today:
Jeff Ake Still Missing in Iraq
Sunday, September 23, 2007 12:15 AM CDT -- BY KRYSTIN E. KASAK
LaPORTE | Two and a half years ago, the town of LaPorte decorated every tree it could find with red, white and blue ribbon. The small community rallied to support the family of a local businessman who was abducted in Iraq. Businesses posted signs that read, "Pray for Jeff Ake," and "Come Home Safe, Jeff."
Today, few remnants have survived to remind people of what happened -- of what is still happening.LaPorte resident Jeffrey Ake was seized from a water treatment plant outside of Baghdad on April 11, 2005. The father of four hasn't been seen since he was shown being held at gunpoint on a video two days after his disappearance. No new information has been discovered since shortly after his kidnapping. "We just don't have any new information on the case," said FBI Special Agent Wendy Osborne of the bureau's Indianapolis office.
One of the few reminders in town come from LaPorte Mayor Leigh Morris. Morris still begins each meeting of the City Council and the Board of Public Works with a prayer for Ake. His office also includes cards that keep track of how many days Ake has been held captive in Iraq. "I just don't want the community to forget Jeff," Morris said.
Despite putting their house up for sale a few weeks after her husband's disappearance, Liliana Ake is still living in LaPorte. Morris, a friend of the Ake family, said he sees Liliana Ake regularly at Rotary Club meetings and throughout the town. In addition to the emotional hardships Liliana Ake has faced, however, the family has also gone through troubling times financially. The formerly successful family business her husband started went bankrupt last year. Liliana has also not been able to tap into her husband's benefits since no one knows what happened to him.
In January of this year, the Ake family church, LaPorte Missionary, set up a fund to help Liliana and her children stay in the family's ranch-style brick home off Pine Lake. Like many other residents in LaPorte, LaPorte Missionary Pastor Carl Galloway declined to comment about the situation. "Unless Lily wants to talk to you, I can't," Galloway said.
Earlier this year, Liliana Ake got her Realtor's license and went to work with a local firm. Her attorney, Mark Phillips, said her situation hasn't changed much over the two years. "Every day is still a struggle," Phillips said. "Her circumstances are still the same -- she wakes up wondering, 'Will there be news today?' 'Will it be good news? Will it be bad news?' She continues to pray with her children and her mother whom she is caring for."
Phillips also said that Liliana is very thankful for the help her family has received -- from both the community and Jeff's family."I still have hope that he is alive," Morris said. "Probably the most recent encouragement was when the Christian Science Monitor writer was released [from being held hostage in Iraq] last year. Her father spoke about others who needed to be released from captivity and he included Jeff Ake. Absent of any other information, I took that to be a positive indicator of the situation and will continue to hope for more."
Appetizer: What is your favorite type of art?
Cartoons. Graphic imagery. Line art. Woodcuts. Simple, but elegant -- the people's art.
Soup: When was the last time you got a free lunch (or breakfast or dinner)? Who paid for it?
On the day of my Dad's funeral -- we found $40 he had squirreled away in a book, so he treated us posthumously to dinner.
Salad: On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being highest, how emotional are you?
2. I'm emotional like Mister Spock. Emotion is overrated. I think Soap Operas are the great destroyer of American culture.
Main Course: Approximately how long do you spend each day responding to emails?
Thirty minutes or more. I have something like 4 or 5 e-mail accounts; plus I check my wife's, too.
Dessert: To what temperature do you usually set your home’s thermostat?
It doesn't matter. I never get hot or cold. I sleep without blankets or covers. If I had my druthers, it's be 60 degrees (F) year-round, but I don't, so I don't worry about it.
~~JD~~
I get occasional e-mails from Jerry Lucas at Male Nurse Magazine. "Male Nurse Magazine" is an online magazine that deals with nursing issues from the perspectives of male nurses.
They also have a small selection of 19 videos on Youtube (HERE) where Jerry and others discuss topics of the day. This video is about the difference between a nurse and a politician.
If you liked that, check out the other Youtube Videos as well.
~~JD~~
As long as I'm in the mood to praise those where praise is due . . . 
When we heard my father had died, we immediately began planning for how I could get up there for the funeral. Of course, it's nineteen hours in a car (fourteen without stops), so that's a pretty hard row to hoe. We priced airline flights, but they wanted $750.00 to Des Moines Iowa round trip. The best price was $420.00 round trip to Omaha Nebraska, four hours by car. I checked into 'Bereavement Fares" where you can get a discount for going home for a funeral, and they were only going to cut the airfare by 10% for any carrier. Plus I'd need a car to get from Des Moines (or Omaha) to Centerville, which are about $50-75 a day rental.
So the lovely and gracious Ariane says to me, "Why don't you try that
Priceline.com website? You like William Shatner!" (Like that's any way to judge a travel website, right?)
So I thought, What the hell-- it's gonna cost me anyway. Might as well give it a try." So I thought, if I could get the Omaha price (about $400.00) to /Des Moines, that would work great. So I went to the website and set up my bid. Word of caution to anyone trying this: Priceline doesn't play around. When you bid on a flight, they want your credit card number up front -- no window shopping!
So I set up a $400.00 bid, and I started to hear William Shatner calling me a "namby-pamby" and a "wussy." (If you've ever seen their TV commercials, you know the one I'm referencing. If not, you can watch their commercials HERE -- Look for the one title "Tough Love".) So I decided to try lower -- what could happen? If they reject my bid, I'll just try again, right?
So I bid $300.00 to Des Moines . . . . and they took it!
Wow!
Then a little pop-up box comes up, asking if I wanted a hotel and a rental car with that. You bet your damned petunias I did -- so I clicked "Yes" and got a $14.00 a day Rental Car, too.
Wow again!
So, yeah, I'd use Priceline again. I'd even strongly recommend trying them if you know you've got to go somewhere.
What have you got to lose?
~~JD~~
So I woke up yesterday to take the lovely and gracious Ariane to work -- and the car won't start. The battery just "click-click-clicks" past the solenoid, unable to raise a charge to start the car.
Dammit!
I had just replaced the alternator three weeks earlier, so I knew it wasn't that. These new Ford alternators have the voltage regulator built into them now, so it's not that, either. The battery terminals were cleaned and lubed when I got the alternator, so that's out, too.
So it's pretty much gotta be the battery, which I bought in January 2006. Well, with all the heat in South Texas, a battery's only good for a year or two anyway. We parted company with our last battery almost two years to the day we got the car, so it's something I was thinking of anyway. So I got a jump from Wonder-Boy and headed over to Wal-mart for another $38.00 (installed) battery.
I got there and told the lady I needed a battery, and she's explaining the warrantee (24 months), and I said, "Really? I just bought this one here 19 months ago!" She asks my phone number, then looks it up.
Then she frowns. Bingo!
She looks up the battery -- they might have it in stock -- and asks me if I want the anti-corrosion coating on the battery terminals. (It's an extra $2.00, but who wouldn't?) She gives me a shop ticket, and tells me it'll be a half hour. I wander across the store to window shop and get breakfast at the in-store McDonald's (which is very bad for me -- but sacrifices must be made.)
Forty-five minutes later I walk back to the service bays and they're just finishing up. They actually had to have another Wal-Mart across town bring them the right battery, but it's been installed and tested and it's terminals coated with anti-corrosive.
I'm expecting a partial rebate on he cost of the battery, like Sears used to do with the Diehard batteries. Since I had about 25% battery life expected still, I'd be really happy with a 25% discount. Guess what my total cost for the battery with installation and anti-corrosive coating was?
Two dollars. They only charged me for the coating.
I am so damned happy I could spit. I LOVE Wal-Mart!
~~JD~~
Offered with only the comment that somehow, it doesn't surprise me. Considering the rampant liberalism in the Nursing profession, this is the inevitable result of the Free Love Generation 40 years on.
Nurse Charged with Sex with 16 Year Old Boy
Jonesboro, AR - A nurse at the Consolidated Youth Services is accused of having sex with a 16 year old boy.
Laura Elizabeth Newberry, age 32, faces 1 count of first degree sexual assault. Court documents state Newberry has sex with the juvenile in an empty CYS classroom on July sixth. Newberry posted a $1,500 bond Tuesday and has been released from custody. If convicted, she could face 10 to 40 years in prison.
Appetizer: When was the last time you visited a hospital?
Pretty much daily -- I'm a nurse. I never go to hospitals when I'm off duty though -- I hate hospitals.
Soup: On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being highest, how ambitious are you?
Three. I'm ambitious for the safety and welfare of my family. Beyond that, I'm content.
Salad: Make a sentence using the letters of a body part. (Example: (mouth) My other ukelele tings healthily.)
Okay, you asked for it.
Under very unusual limitations, a friendly rattlesnake evinces no unusual laughter unless molested.
(Uvula, Frenulum. They're in your mouth. Look them up!)
Main Course: If you were to start a club, what would the subject matter be, and what would you name it?
The Curious George Fan Club. Nothing beats somethin' from the Oven like Hot Monkey Lovin'. (And what's that frog doing behind you, George?)
Dessert: What color is the carpet/flooring in your home?
Tan or beige; take your pick. We rent, though -- does that count? If my wife had her way, we'd have nothing but wood floors and Florentine Tiles -- someday, I guess.
~~JD~~
Humberto graduated to Hurricane Status overnight (literally!) and came ashore with 80+ knot winds this morning.
Lovely!
Well, Alabama / Georgia / Mississippi could use the rain, I'm sure.
See why I keep a case of bottled water in the car this time of year? Yesterday morning when we were talking about this it was just a Tropical Depression, let alone a full-fledge Hurricane . . .
~~JD~~
I mentioned this last week; but it's continuing to weigh on my mind. My Dad used to love to do jigsaw puzzles, and this is the one he was working on when he died. My father's life; a puzzle left unfinished.
It's not like we were particularly close or anything. I think we liked each other generally, but we were both disappointed by each other at different parts of our lives. I was never the sports star he wanted me to be, and he was never quite the father I wanted and wished for.
And then as we're clearing the apartment, I find a "U.S. Army" ballcap in his bedroom that was obviously worn a lot. It's a small tribute to my sister and I as Army veterans, and I don't know how to feel about that. (Dad was Air Force.) It must have taken some effort to find that ballcap -- Southern Iowa wasn't a hotbed of military stores.
Yet he wore that cap frequently. Something else I didn't know about my father.
I didn't even know he had been sick until I talked to my mom in August. I'd tried to call him several times and he didn't pick up. Probably didn't want to worry me; or just didn't want to be seen like that, maybe. Who wants to be remembered weak, in pain, and wearing a diaper? Yet he really seemed happy to see us, especially his grandson Julian.
That may have been the happiest I ever saw him, actually. Who wants to be alone at the end, anyway?
A lot of things left unsaid, though, and just because that's the kind of man he was. Those are the things that still bother me, though, because that's the kind of man I am.
Things left unsaid. Puzzles left undone.
I hugged my son tonight.
~~JD~~
Fortunately, it's headed for Galveston and Houston areas, which haven't had as much of the soaking rains that North Texas has had lately.
But I'm glad I didn't wash my car, nevertheless.
My guess; we'll have 6 inches of rain here by this time tomorrow.
~~JD~~
Just heard on the radio weather forecast that the temperature will be a "Fall-Like" 86 degrees in San Antone today.
Gee, when I was in Chicago three weeks ago they were in a summer heatwave with 84 degrees and 70% humidity.
I'm just sayin' . . .
(Heh.)
~~JD~~
When I woke up at the hotel this morning the parking lot was full of these contraptions. Seems the local railroad is just a spur line of the Rock Island that goes solely to Centerville, and the locals get permission when the line is not in use to take their privately owned rail cars up and down the tracks.
No, I said that right. These folks have their own private rail cars to zip up and down the tracks, which must be some sight to see. There must have been twenty of them at the hotel, all heading south of town to get put on the tracks.
(And I thought fishing was weird . . . )
Left Centerville after breakfast with cousin Kelli again this morning. That’s a habit I could learn to get into. Kelli and I are so alike personality-wise that it’s really fun to sit and chat with someone who seems to agree with you so much on a personal level. I think Ariane (my wife), my cousin Nancy in Indiana, and Kelli would all get along great. We’ll have to arrange a meeting in the near future. A year is probably too long, but the most likely option. 
Next year we’ll drive up for a week of recreating and sunbathing on the shores of Lake Rathbun; visit the local cemeteries and Library, and get re-acquainted with the family I just found. (And here's Lake Rathbun from the air as I flew over it this morning at lower right).
Ariane had better watch out, or she might find herself falling in love with Centerville. They’ve got a Dialysis Clinic and everything; and I understand they’re having trouble keeping a Director for any length of time.
Hmmm . . . jobs and everything.
Well, we’ve been saying for years that some day we’d rent an RV and go somewhere. 2008 may be that year.
Just a note for Julian’s benefit; I even found a Murphy USA gas station to fill up the rental Toyota (which was ‘waaaaaaay too small for my six-foot frame) on the way back to the airport. The “Tour of America’s Finest Wal-Marts" ™ continues!
I don’t know who designed the Des Moines airport, but it’s certainly not like other airports. For one thing, they’ve eschewed the usual stairs-and escalators thing for long sloping ramps, which is a literal pain in the calves! Add to this the very, very long way to walk to get anywhere and you have a full-fledged aerobic workout for the tired traveler.
Plus the first thing you notice when deplaning is the wet spots in the carpet where the roof leaks when it rains. That’s always a nice touch.
Add to that the early 1980’s “Star Trek Next Generation” décor, and you have a very dated, dilapidated, tiring layout.
Managed to catch the first available flight to Dallas, and the view was tremendous; so much so, I made a video of it:
Lots of pretty, fluffy clouds and deep purple shadows for contrast. Too beautiful, really; God's gift to soothe the savaged soul.
Or maybe just bad weather for Oklahoma. Depends on your perspective, I guess.
Got back about 3:30 pm, just in time to make church tonight and drop Julian off for his Study Group. It's a pretty weird Study Group; he does Physics all afternoon, then they practice what they've learned by going roller skating. Somehow, I don't think that would have qualified as Lab Time when I went to school . . .
So now I'm doing laundry and getting ready for work in the morning. Good Stuff. No Place Like Home, Don'tcha know!
~~JD~~
***Updated: 9/08/2007 6:00 am***
We buried my father today.
I keep waiting for the realization to hit that he;s really gone; but he was in-and-out of my life so much I'm used to this kind of "disappearance" of his. This "missing-him" feeling is so usual for me, it's like an old sweater -- worn but comfortable.
I opened the day with breakfast with my cousin Kelly at the restaurant he used to work at -- a little hole-in-the-wall off the town square in Centerville called the Tuscany (and was called the "Smoke Shop" when he worked there.) We talked about him, about his annoying habits, his good (and great) points; the times he was there when he needed him, and the times he wasn't.
And then the power went off all over Southern Iowa -- everywhere.
A word of explanation. Dad was a child of the Depression, and had it literally beat into him that electricity costs money, and to turn off the lights when you leave the room. So frequently I'd be in a room with him and he'd get up to use the bathroom and he'd shut off the lights when he left. Two seconds later he'd realize what he did, yell "Sorry!", and turn the lights back on again. Happened ten thousand times if it happened one, right?
So here we are, my cousin Kelli and me, talking about my Dad, and the lights go out for two seconds in Centerville. And not just the lights -- my cellphone rebooted, Kelli's went off entirely, and my cousin Jim reported his car radio turned itself off as well as he was driving.
Somewhere, my Dad was yelling "Sorry!" and laughing his butt off.
The service was at 10:00 am, and about twenty people turned out, which really surprised me. Both of my sisters and I showed up, as well as my cousins Jimmy and Kelli; Aunt Joanne and her husband John; wife #9 (Lana) with her entourage of four; and several regular customers from the restaurant he used to work at. My Dad was a very personable and pleasant person (when he wanted to be, of course) and could be very generous and giving and caring (when he wanted to be.) He had said to me as recently as two weeks ago when I last saw him that he wasn't sure he wanted a memorial service "since the line to piss on my grave would probably be several blocks long and tie up traffic."
And I had agreed with him. He could certainly be annoying, rude, and downright terrifying when he wanted to be as well, as his nine wives can attest. (Mom was both #3 and #7 -- the only one to last into double digits.) I wore my blue polo shirt with the embroidered Chicago Cubs logo I got the last time I was at Wrigley Field. My cousin Jim wore his Cubs tie. Dad would have liked that.
Dad was cremated (that's him on the left in the mahogany cremation urn) and interred into the cemetary next to the grandfather Espy he loved so much.
After the ceremony was completed my cousin Jim nudges me. He says, "Hey John -- let's sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." At first I thought he was crazy, but just that suddently it came to me -- somewhere, he was laughing about it, and loved the idea. I bumped into the ghost of my father, and he was singing.
So Jim, Kelli, and I sang "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" and most of the people joined in, too. I think if it's good enough for Harry Caray's funeral, it's good enough for my Dad's.
I stayed after everyone had left and helped the funeral director place the urn into the ground. I literally buried my father today.
Afterwards I spent about a half-hour in the cemetary doing some legwork by photographing headstones of relatives I never knew but heard so much about. It will help my genealogy research immensely, and gave me time to walk and process the moment. My Dad used to love to do jigsaw puzzles, and this is the one he was working on when he died. My father's life; a puzzle left unfinished.
So we finished up moving all the furniture out, and Aunt Joanne will finish cleaning the apartment this weekend so it can be rented next week. Job well done, I think.
One bonus for the afternoon; during the cleaning of the apartment we found $40.00 he had squirreled away in a book and forgotten about. So we trotted down to the restaurant he used to work for, and he bought us dinner, as he had done so many times before. Once again, I bumped into my father that day without his actually being there.
As I stood at my Aunt Joanne's house saying goodbye, I told her about the power failure that morning and how Kelli and I had been talking about Dad at that very moment. No sooner did I mention his name than the automatic light in the driveway went off -- even though there were four people milling around the driveway at the time.
Took almost a full minute before it came on again. Again my Dad was present, without even being there. I could almost physically hear my Dad was yelling "Sorry!" and laughing -- again.
Heading back in the morning. I think I've had enough of my Dad for the day. I keep tripping over his memory, it seems. I said to Aunt Joanne as we left that I keep waiting for him to walk through that damn door. She did, too.
~~JD~~
Appetizer: Using only one word, how does grocery shopping make you feel?
Serendipitous. How's that?
Soup: What is your favorite part about the season of Autumn?
That I live in South Texas, where it doesn't get cold. Seasonal Change is highly overrated.
Salad: Have you ever had any bad experiences online?
Oh yes. For some reason I tend to attract trolls and inflame them. I've had to rename myself to stay on a few boards I like. It's almost funny.
Main Course: Name three things that make you happy daily.
God; my Wife (the lovely and gracious Miss Mommy, whom I don't deserve), and my son, the Wonder Boy. What else do I need?
Dessert: What one household cleansing or organizing item would you not want to be without?
Febreze. If you have animals, you can't live without this stuff. Actually removes the smells, doesn't just mask them. Incredible stuff.
Eeewwwww! I'm having Febreze for Dessert! Eeeewwww! just, Eeeww!
~~JD~~
(rinses mouth out with Listerine . . . )
I’m sitting in the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport as I write this. I’m on the road to liveblog my father’s funeral.
Well, maybe not the best idea in the world; but some things you just get one chance for, right?
We got on the highway to the San Antonio airport at 5:45 am. Wonder of wonders, Julian the Wonder Boy was up early and ready to dump Dad off at the airport and be free of his tantrums for three days. We made a quick stop-off for souvenirs for Aunt Joanne at Wal-Mart (continuing our tradition of traveling the finer Wal-Marts of the world), then drove down U.S. 281 to the airport.
As we passed the end of the runway just south of Bitters Road I feigned slamming the car through the barriers towards the runway lights to my right. “Oh Look – there’s the Airport!!!!,” I screamed malevolently.
Julian rolled his eyes in that teen-aged way that all teenagers seem to have instinctively – knowing full well that their parents are complete and total idiots, and that they know everything in the world. “There no exit there, Dad.”
“Well, there is NOW!,” I cackled.
Julian sighed, deeply. ™.
************************************************
Got into the airport a little after 6:30 am for my 10:10 am flight and checked in. Someday I want to meet Richard Reid, the idiot jihadist who tried (unsuccessfully) to light his explosive-laden shoes on fire and blow up a plane. I want to thank him – personally – for making me and millions of other air travelers have to partially disrobe to get through the metal detectors. Oh, and the knucklehead jihadis who made it impossible for me to bring my shaving cream, body wash, and/or antiperspirant onboard the flight.
Fortunately, I had brought half-empty cans of the above for the flight. Usually I buy brand new stuff to take – had I had to throw away $15.00 of brand-new supplies, I’d be really pissed right now instead of mildly annoyed.
So there I was at 7:30 am, waiting for my 10:10 am flight when I heard the melodious tones of the American Airlines announcer impart her wonderful wisdom that the flight for Dallas leaving in 10 minutes had seats available, and anyone wishing to go now from a later flight could board now.
Fancy that!
So I did, which is why I’m in the airport in Dallas at 9:20am – almost an hour before my regularly scheduled flight departs from San Antonio. I might even be able to get back to San Antone early and pick up a shift at the Ortho Hospital Saturday. That’s a GOOD thing when you have unexpected expenses suddenly, like flights for funerals and falderal.
And, as you can see from the photo, the bathrooms in Dallas are not only bilingual; they are also designated tornado shelters. Weird.
I think if the tornado comes, I do NOT want to die in the DFW men's bathroom. I'd probably die under the pile of U.S.Senators hanging out there.
***************************************
The shortest flight on record -- 52 minutes flat. The plane (an MD-80 for those of you who understand this lingo) went straight up, straight down, and BAM!, there we are.
Cool!
****************************************
We got in and I immediately asked the ticket agent when the next flight to Des Moines was -- "It's in twenty minutes. You'll have to Hurry -- it's in terminal B-9."
Two terminals away!
Fortunately they have this nifty people-mover monorail that got me over to Terminal B-9 about 1 minute before the 9:40 am flight left -- and it was delayed until 10:00 am.
Perfect!
Off we go again!
Whenever someone in my family passes on, I sit down and do a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing that allows me to vent a little, remember a lot, and sort of prioritize what I remember about them. Puts it in context; allows me to work through some stuff, and gives me an incredible sense of peace. I've printed some of those here; I may print some of those again later.
This one is for my Dad. It kept me up until 1:00 am this morning -- once these things get their hooks in me, it's hard to just put them down until they're done with me.
John Edward Long: February 13th 1928 to August 31st 2007. 79 years old.
Born to two parents who didn’t stay together long after his birth, he was taken by his mother, who promptly put him up in a Catholic orphanage. When he tried to get her permission to go through Catechism to please the nuns at the orphanage, she quickly yanked him out. He suffered from rickets due to being a small child in the Depression; an unwanted sidekick to a single mother trying to snag a husband. And after she married Ray Glynn, she had him shipped off to Mexico Military Academy in Mexico MO.
He responded by rebelling in his own semi-quiet way. A kid who just wanted a little attention; he stole, he got into fights, he excelled at sports. He edited the Mexico student paper, where he emphasized his own exploits. “LONG CARRIES THE MAIL” the headline read, even though another boy had scored all the winning touchdowns. He went home to Centerville for holidays, and got into fights with his father Roy. One of the fights was about a girl named Shirley, his first wife. He lied about his age and joined the Army Air Corps, where he was either thrown out for stealing cigarettes from the vending machines, or lied about his age to join and was thrown out for that.
He used his GI bill benefits to get a degree in accounting. He worked for the Austin Company and traveled to Albuquerque NM, White Bear Lake MN, King of Prussia PA, Los Angeles and San Francisco CA, Chicago IL, and Tehran Iran at various times. He was the financial Controller for the Sears Tower construction project in Chicago. There he met his second wife (also Shirley), who left him after six months. He blamed drinking. "If I'm sorry for anything, it's that. And the booze, of course, I just couldn't lay off the f***ing booze -- which was the real problem."
While building the Indiana General plant in Valparaiso Indiana he met a girl soda-jerking at Torbeson’s Drug Store. He told the story many times of how they met. He ordered an ice cream sundae from her:
“Whipped Cream?” she asked naively.
He made an anticipatory face, “Oh Yes, Please!”
She giggled and ladled the cream on top of the Sundae. “Crushed Nuts?” she asked.
He replied, “Oh no, it’s just my back hurting . . . “
Then he would laugh and laugh, amused at his own lascivious wit.
They married and had three children; my sisters and I. They divorced in 1967 after ten years of marriage, but she left him in 1963 after the birth of the youngest. Mom would never talk about it, but Dad had said one time after a drunken binge that he had made a pass at my Kindergarten teacher and accused my mother of being unfaithful. “Dumbest thing I ever did,” he’d said. "I just couldn't stop looking for that greener pasture. All those women I married, all those whores -- and the only one that was really worth a damn was your mother. I treated her like dirt, and she still was the best thing I ever found."
There were others after my Mom; Julie in Illinois; Judy from Illinois; Barbara from California. Then one day in 1976 he had re-appeared on our doorstep, knuckles bloodied and hiding out from someone. His few-day stay turned into fifteen years and his seventh marriage. “We were married over 25 years if you count them both together,” he said just two weeks ago. It was something he was actually proud of. After that, there was another woman in South Haven IN, then Lana in Centerville.
Nine marriages. That’s not counting Joan in California and the other assorted live-ins from time to time.
Was he a good father? No, but I think he tried to be. He paid $200 a month child support at a time when he was only court mandated to pay $15.00 a month. He tried to have us kids over to see us for holidays or vacations once a year. He drove us to Illinois in the winter; and flew us to Washington and California during the summer.
Did he love us? Who knows. I don’t think he even liked himself very much.
He could be maddening sometimes, but in fairness, all my memories of these problems seem to involve alcohol. He did a month for Public Intoxication in Valparaiso and made it sound like Summer Camp. He would scream and throw things, but was angry at himself and try to make it up to you when he sobered up.
Alternately, he could be the kindest, most generous man you ever met. He paid several thousand dollars to move us from Missouri just so he could see his grandson. He bough our Mom several cars when she had no transportation, and hired a truck to clean up the property (which was very dilapidated when we moved in.) There were other things too; buying annuities for his grandchildren, helping out neighbors who had been burned out; even paying for the college education of a secretary of his who couldn’t afford it.
Does it balance out? NO – not even close.
But as you get older, you may not agree with your parents’ choices; you may not like your parents’ choices; you may not even like your parents themselves very much.
But you understand. As you gain more experience and context, you understand a little more.
Dad, I understand. I don’t agree with all your choices, and I don’t like some of what you did. But I understand.
And some of it was . . . even a little bit fun.
Thanks, Dad.
One of my favorite photos, because it has my sister Rose in it too (very few photos of my sisters as babies have survived the years.) Dad's kicked back in the grass, and I'm kicked back laying on top of him. I actually remember when this was taken -- I must have been 4 years old or so.
I'd forgotten I'd had this one until I started looking through the old albums. Here's Dad, the uncomfortable new father with his (I'd guess) 1-month-old son uncomfortably on his lap. You can almost read his mind -- he's thinking, "oh CRAP!!! -- goodbye bachelorhood!!! I think he looks a lot like Dean Martin in this picture. (Well, this was right around the heyday of the Rat Pack, just post-"Martin & Lewis", so that's probably right.
My Dad told me once this was a staged picture -- him making a face while I cried about something. Again with the Dean Martin look here. Another of my favorite pictures of him -- but they all seem to be my favorite picture right now . . . 
The family standing around at my sister Rose's wedding rehearsal in May 1986. My Dad is at far left standing uncomfortably in the brown sports coat jacket.
Again the Wedding Rehearsal, with Dad at left avoiding the camera. He never got along well with Mom's side of the family, which is why I was astonished he showed up for this. 
I'm less than a year old here; so sometime in late 1958. Those pajamas are a stitch! I love the little cap.
I'm about 2 years old here; so this had to be about 1960. For some reason my cousin Nancy shows up in every picture taken that Christmas with that ukulele. My mother in this pictures look almost exactly like my sister Rose looks today.
~~JD~~
Yup, turning North -- just like I thought. here we go . . .
UPDATE (4:30 pm): I gotta go buy some bottled water.
UPDATE (5:45 pm): The sun has clouded over, the wind has picked up from the Southeast, and big fat drops of rain are falling. The rain bands being thrown off by this thing are enormous!
~~JD~~
Stay tuned. South Texas could see something later this coming week.
~~JD~~
John Edward Long, of Centerville Iowa, passed away Friday, August 31, 2007 in Centerville. He was born February 13, 1928 to Roy E. and Rose (Espy) in Centerville and had been a resident of Centerville for 12 years, after retiring from Valparaiso, IN. 
He was employed as an Accountant most of his life and a house painter after retirement and was a Chicago Cubs fan with an encyclopedic memory of the team. He was a veteran of the U.S. Army Air Corps in WWII, and traveled extensively in his work, listing addresses in Centerville IA, Valparaiso IN, Albuquerque NM, White Bear Lake MN, King of Prussia PA, Los Angeles and San Francisco CA, Chicago IL, and Tehran Iran at various times. He was the financial Controller for the Sears Tower construction project in Chicago. 
He is survived by his ex-wife of 25 years, Sarah A. Long of Valparaiso; his sister Mrs. Joanne Terrones of Centerville; his brother Richard “Butch” Long of Centerville; sons: John D. Long of San Antonio TX; daughters Rose E. Long of Valparaiso and Kathleen Long of Norfolk VA; and four grandchildren. 
He was preceded in death by his parents. In accordance with his wishes no memorial service will be held. Memorials may be sent to the American Cancer Society. Cremation arrangements have been entrusted to Schmidt Family Funeral Home. 641-856-8661
I last saw my Dad two weeks ago at his apartment in Iowa. One of the last things we talked about was when he said, "I just couldn't stop looking for that greener pasture. All those women I married, all those whores -- and the only one that was really worth a damn was your mother. I treated her like dirt, and she still was the best thing I ever found."
"If I'm sorry for anything, it's that. And the booze, of course, I just couldn't lay off the f***ing booze -- which was the real problem.""
Good-Bye, Dad.
~~JD~~
